


Travel Fever

by Kalyppso



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalyppso/pseuds/Kalyppso
Summary: It's the night before they'll explore Fodlan, and things are perfect, but Linhardt is tormented by the magnitude of the war.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Travel Fever

**Author's Note:**

> For the tumblr prompt: Resfeber - thrill felt before an adventure!
> 
> But when I looked up Resfeber I found that it actually meant: The restless race of the traveler’s heart before the journey begins, when anxiety and anticipation are tangled together.  
> Or more literally: travel fever.

Linhardt rarely had trouble sleeping. He’d indulged in and suffered through countless all-nighters in his life. Some were for research, others for reading, and yet others for fear and worry. However whenever he’d needed sleep, and sometimes when he didn’t, it came to him, like an old friend, promising new chances to research, strikes of inspiration, and better circumstances for when he woke.

Tonight though, he couldn’t sleep.

He smiled, because the bed was warm and comfortable, complete with welcome company and the security of peace, the promise of freedom…

He and Caspar had slept together before, but never like this, never like lovers. As such, Linhardt knew how to lay around him so they were both comfortable, and Caspar did not wake due to the candlelight by the bed, so used to Linhardt reading late into the night.

Slowly, Linhardt swept his hand across Caspar’s chest, wondering, idly, if there were words in his lover’s skin; secrets of pleasure, and pain, and the absolutely mundane. Caspar huffed in his sleep, reaching up to bat Linhardt’s hand away as he rolled on his side, then holding his hand around his stomach, which rippled and gurgled.

Linhardt chuckled, quiet in the hush of the room, and repositioned so that he could press his face into the back of a muscled shoulder. He imagined Caspar was going to be disappointed with him tomorrow, sleeping through the first leg of their journey, but Linhardt thought it would be quite fitting, all things considered.

He had been so afraid when Caspar had declared he was leaving, it was such a poorly worded invitation, but Linhardt wouldn’t have wanted for anything else when it became clear that they could go together. Experiments were difficult on the road, but travel was its own adventure, and would expose so many new ideas and such a wealth of information… Linhardt doubted that mattered. He would have followed Caspar anywhere to continue his research, whether at the Bergliez estate or out in the world.

There was some guilt, not about their families, but about whether there were more direct ways to help the people who had been affected by the war; Linhardt would have to hope that going to these people directly would offer some measure of mutual benefit.

The guilt was not enough to dissuade his excitement. This trip would be healing, and long overdue. Far from spilled blood, and free of unnecessary distraction; prying eyes, suspicious allies and demanding nobles.

Linhardt realized his vision was blurry before he registered the tears, and shut his eyes closed firm as he pressed a long kiss to the back of Caspar’s shoulder. Caspar shrugged, as if trying to dislodge him, and Linhardt sobbed a laugh.

Trying to pull away from Caspar was impossible when his hand clenched on Linhardt’s wrist. Linhardt had begun to tremble around him, against his back and Caspar had to think for a moment as the movement woke him.

“Are you crying?” Caspar asked, releasing Linhardt’s hand.

Linhardt swept at his face with his now free hand. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice thick with sadness. “I’m fine.”

“Like hell,” Caspar hissed in worry, shifting closer to the edge of the bed so he could roll over to face Lin. He swept back Linhardt’s long, wild hair. “Linny.” He hesitated before adding, “Baby. Was it a dream?”

A ghost of a smile crept over Linhardt then. He shook his head, tilting his face forward into Caspar’s hands, and letting his green locks fall forward again, hiding him. “I haven’t slept.”

Caspar’s calloused fingers pulled away, just an inch, just for an instant, before seeking Linhardt’s face and neck again. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? I’m so fucking clumsy. Is there anything you need? I’ll get it. I’m sorry, I—”

“Caspar,” Linhardt interrupted. He swept his hair back, and though his lashes were wet and his cheeks were red, he was smiling, stupidly. “Do you really think that if you’d hurt me I’d let you live it down? I’d be prepared to insist you carry me everywhere.” Caspar rolled his eyes. “That you feed and water my horse.”

“I already do that.”

Lin snickered and looked away for a moment, darting his eyes back but holding position. “That we find other methods of compensation.”

Caspar still frowned. “Like research?”

“Fun research,” Linhardt insisted, reaching out to hold Caspar’s bicep so that his arm was linked around his.

“Fun for you,” Caspar accused, accepting a kiss. He sighed. “Then why the tears? Second thoughts?”’

“No,” Linhardt answered quickly, a flash of worry on his features. “At first I think I was just kept up for resfeber, but that just got me thinking of being away from everything that had been familiar to me, either since the war or from before … and … even finding comfort in the unfamiliar, it’s hard to feel worthy of it.

“If I were an experiment on how to do good in the world, then I would be a failure. My actions … and my inaction, have hurt so many more people than I might ever be able to help.”

Caspar let his hands drip to Linhardt’s shoulders, and then pressed one hand into his hair and pulled him down into the curve of his neck.

“You’re not an experiment, Lin,” Caspar grunted, trying not to be angry about this; there was no way to fight their demons. “You’re a person. You’re a good person.” Linhardt was crying again and so this became a mantra for Caspar, repeated as he stroked fingers along his friend’s spine.

Linhardt would have been embarrassed to admit how long that went on, before they both lay, silent and together, for a few minutes more.

“Linny-Baby?” Caspar called, less hesitant in the pet name after Linhardt’s previous lack-of-reaction.

“Mm,” Linhardt hummed, and Caspar twitched his shoulder, because his neck and collarbone felt clammy from Linhardt’s tears and breathing. He pressed his chin into Linhardt’s hair for a moment, sighing, before tilting his face away to continue speaking.

“You’re so smart… I can’t wait to see you change the world. I know you can do it. But there’s no rush. You don’t need to change it **right now.** We’ll just, fuck off together, for a little while. I’ll keep you safe long enough for you to help anyone you want to. Deal?”

Linhardt’s heart felt tight. “Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what fic I was reading where someone else had Caspar call Linhardt "Linny-Baby" but if you're out there: I'm still not over it??? I can't stop picturing him using 50s slang. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this!


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